Second String
by Manic Oppressive
Summary: Dozens of factions rip the mutant community apart in their attempts to build their armies. In order to prevent this chaos from spreading to the 'normal' human society, the Mutant Identification Administration is formed. Non-Canon, Original Characters
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Before anyone starts their "BAAAAAW"ing, I would like to note that this is not a canon-wise story. This nominally takes place in the X-Men universe, nothing more. I'm telling a story here. Characters from the comics may appear in the future, but don't expect to see any in major roles. If you spot a disgusting grammatical error that I didn't, or have a suggestion, post them in comments. Otherwise, enjoy!

X-Men: Second-String

Six uniformed men trudged through the muck and slime of a Georgian swamp. Their outfits had the familiar look of an agency no one had heard of that probably didn't exist. Were it not for the colors and insignias, they could've been fairly typical tactical suits, but they were emblazoned with a large drop of liquid, half red and half blue. Compact sub-machine guns ornamented each man's back, well out of danger from the water beneath them.

Even wearing boots to his knees, one of the men was grimacing and glaring apprehensively at the mire.

"Colonel, are we almost there? This is disgusting, it'll take weeks to get these clothes smelling normal."

"Quit yer bellyachin' Kilgore. If this'un is wut the reports say, he'll be werth it." The grimacing man grumbled something under his breath about 'all the trouble they went through for these freaks,' but fell back in line. Unlike his CO, Colonel Votigan, this wasn't something natural for him. He'd lived his whole life in a small town in Arizona, far from the swamps of the south-east. They worried about scorpions and spiders, not alligators and mosquitoes.

"Up ahead. Th'GPS says this is where we'll find 'im." They felt, under their feet, the first solid ground of the day. They had come to a small clearing, where moss-covered dirt and rocks had defeated the slime of the swamps. A small wooden shack had been constructed in the middle of the clearing, and its owner, a burly man with tattered clothes and greasy black hair, sat outside on an old rocking chair amidst a strange patch of blackened earth. As the men approached, he cursed and stood up.

"I told the last bunch, I ain't comin' with you! Get the hell away from my house!" None of the soldiers stopped. The colonel motioned to the rest to take up positions around him in case the confrontation degraded. While his men took formation, he took a few steps closer to the shack.

"I hear they call you 'Nord.' I'm Colonel Andrew Votigan, I'm here with the-"

"I know who sent you. And I've told you asswipes before, you can go to hell. I'm not coming back with you. Last warning, go home before I send your boss a thimble of your remains." Nord took a step forward and glanced at a soldier taking a station on his left flank. The water stirred behind him.

"Now list'n here. You've got two choices. You can sit here an' rot for the nex' three months til the Brotherhood comes'n get you by force, or you can come now and save ev'ry-one a heap of trouble." Nord smirked.

"And what makes you think I want to _avoid_ trouble?" He looked back at the man on his left, who had just produced his firearm. The bubbling water behind him splashed into the air, followed by a flash of green and brown scales as an alligator's jaw smashed the soldier's leg. He screamed in agony and dropped to the ground as the alligator finished him off. The other men stared in horror at the mutilated remains.

"I believe I told you to go home. You've had your chance. Now you get to meet some of my other friends." The ground around Nord's shack began to shift and shimmer. At a flick of his wrist, innumerable mosquitoes rose, forming an enormous black cloud. The fog of insects swarmed around two of the men to Nord's right, obscuring them from vision. The terrified remaining soldiers faintly heard the screams of their comrades over a deafening buzz, until finally the mosquitoes let two blood-drained, lumped corpses drop backward into the swamp. They rushed the two remaining grunts, until a sudden crack ripped over their buzzing and a dart flew into Nord's side. Colonel Votigan dropped the gun sights from his eyes and smiled with satisfaction as the mosquitoes dissipated, their controller disabled. Nord stood, confused. He looked from the spreading mosquitoes, to the colonel, and back.

"Like it? Temporary Power Neutralizers. Yer helpless fer the next hour. We, however, are not. Ready to come along?" With the three remaining men advancing, Nord put his hands on his head and sighed in surrender.

* * *

Two bright computer screens in a corner illuminated an otherwise dark room. One was streaming code on a command prompt, the other was playing a game online. Neither had a visible operator. In a chair in the opposite corner, a woman sat reading an old copy of _Gone with the Wind._ She chuckled as she heard "HEADSHOT" screamed over the speakers from her computer. A quick glance at her coding to confirm what she knew it was telling her, and she was back to her book.

A faint knocking at the door jerked her away from her sanctuary. She looked over her shoulder, sighing. The computer with the game blinked off, the one with the coding stopped producing text and hibernated.

"Door's unlocked." She shouted. The knob turned and the door slowly slid open, revealing a very official man in a very official suit.

"You would be Mrs. Slate?" The man looked around the room and then, satisfied, took a step toward the woman.

"I suppose. But it's Digit. Or CW_Digit if you prefer, since some bastard took my na-" The man cut her off.

"Ma'am, my name is Charles Douglas. I'm here with the MIA, the Mutant Identification Administration."

"So you're not FBI? Uh... Not that I would have a problem with you if you were." Digit glanced at the door nervously.

"I'm not concerned with why you hacked into Stark Industry's computer systems. Only with how. According to our files, you have a very powerful mutation." The man sat in a chair opposite Digit's. "I was told you were a... techno-path?"

"I control technology, yes. I don't like that word, Techno-path. Makes me sound like a cheesy comic-book serial killer." She laughed a bit, throwing her book on the bed next to her. "So what, exactly, do you want?"

"Ma'am, everything will be explained in due course. If you'd follow me..."

* * *

"Sis, quit dragging your feet. There's a pothole up ahead with a spider in it that might jump on you if you don't pick up your feet." A young boy was strolling down the sidewalk with his sister leading the way. His pale blue eyes had a strange glaze over them, and his pupils were greyed and barely visible.

"Now you're just showing off." His sister, a couple of years his senior, rolled her eyes and brushed the black hair out of her eyes. For someone with no sight, her brother could certainly flaunt his perception. In his defense, it was rarely useless in Brooklyn.

She was about to lead her brother around a corner when he tapped her shoulder. It was a familiar sign, and she hastily turned to cross the street instead, glancing over her shoulder. Two men with guns poorly concealed under their shirts were strutting toward the corner. But as soon as they had crossed the street, her brother tapped her again.

"What? I saw the men, why do you think we're going this way?"

"No... There are more. They're coming from that way too." He pointed the direction they had come from. The boy's sister noted another pair of men where they were about to detour. They were surrounded, and if her brother thought they were dangerous, they definitely were.

"Hey YOU!" One of the men behind them shouted. "Heard rumors on the streets that your old lady's a FREAK." Not good. Their mother had recently revealed her mutant abilities to stop a mugger, and nothing good ever came from a reveal like that.

"Yeah, and we figgered the bitch musta' produced a couple of little mutie-babies, and we don' appreciate yo' kind in our streets!" The men closed in around the two adolescents.

"Sis... Tell them to go away! I mean, _tell _them!" His sister looked around nervously.

"I can't, there are too many. I could only get one or two at most!" One of the men stepped forward, hand raised and aiming at the girl. Her brother screamed and launched himself at the man's legs, knocking him to the ground and leaving a small bloody spot where the man's head had bounced off the concrete. Three of the other men rushed to pull the boy away, but he rolled out of the way and ran back to his sister. As the remaining men closed in, they resorted to a more mundane solution.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" The sister screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Ain't NOBODY around 'gonna come up against th-" The man never had a chance to finish his sentence. A short burst of gunfire punctured his chest and dropped him to the ground. The others looked up with shock, but didn't have time to aim their guns or run away before a hail of precise lead ventilated each one.

The two siblings stood together in shock, but the young boy made no move to get his sister away from the four men approaching with automatic weapons. They weren't a danger.

"Hi there. You two alright?" One of the soldiers, a man with an oak leaf pin on his collar, slung his gun across his back and stood next to them.

"Ye... Yeah, we're fine. Who are you?" The sister asked in a shaking voice.

"I'm Major Reynolds, senior field agent with the Mutant Identification Administration. You're Kelsey and Zeke O'Malley, right?" The girl nodded. "We can keep you safe, if you'd follow me..."

* * *

"You've all been chosen because you're the strongest mutants around who are still unaffiliated with the various supremacy groups that have infested this country." Major Reynolds walked up and down the line of chairs where Nord, Digit and the O'Malleys sat.

"And apparently because the third amendment doesn't mean shit to you guys." Nord grumbled.

"The third amendment is quartering soldiers, moron. You're looking for the fourth." Digit rolled her eyes. "Now can you please let the man finish?"

"Thank you. As I was saying, you're the most powerful mutants available. We have a critically important task for you." Nord snorted, but Reynolds ignored him and continued. "You see, throughout the country and the world there are factions who would attempt to recruit or capture mutants such as you, who are isolated, confused, or endangered. Our job is to find loners first."

"Why, so you can get the first pick of the recruits? Just another damn government hypocrite." Nord lounged in his chair, glaring at the Major.

"On the contrary. These missions are completely voluntary-" Nord stood abruptly and started for the door.

"Except for you, Mr. Nord. That is, unless you'd like to be arrested for a few dozen counts of homicide." Nord muttered something profane under his breath and sat back down.

"Your jobs, should you accept them, will relate to the targeting and apprehension of various parties who would prey on lone mutants. You will operate in a squad consisting of those present today, and one MIA agent." This time, Digit interrupted.

"You're telling me we'll have to drag around a gunman with no powers?" Reynolds motioned to the guard by the door, who opened it.

"Not quite." A tall blonde woman in blue body armor stepped through the door.

"This is Flashpoint. She'll be the agent assigned to your squad." The woman smiled warmly. Digit was unimpressed.

"What's so special about her?"

"Are you kidding me? I'll vote for her." Nord received a quick glare from the woman.

"Eye contact, please." She stepped back as Reynolds came between them.

"Flashpoint has the ability to create intense heat at any point she can see." He stood aside as she approached a metal bowl that had been left on the desk behind them. Flashpoint held out her hand, turning the bowl instantly red. After a few seconds, it began to drip molten steel onto the desk.

"Can you set things on fire?" Zeke asked eagerly.

"Fraid not, kid. Just heat. I mean, I suppose I could ignite something if I got it hot enough, but I can't really control the fire." Zeke sat back, disappointed.

"Nevertheless, she is considered a class one mutant, and is thus available for field ops. On that subject, before any of the rest of you are cleared for ops, you'll need to go through our typical training regiment. This should also give you ample opportunity to get to know each other better."

"The first thing we need to go over is what powers we have assembled here today." Agent Douglas clicked a button on his remote, bringing up a slide show on a projector screen behind him. The first screen had a picture of Nord.

"Nord," He began, before Nord himself interrupted.

"If you say my given name, I swear to God I will end you." Douglas eyed him, but skipped the name.

"Nord. Age, forty-six. Class One mutant, with the ability to control the mind of any non-sentient living thing in a certain radius. Anything else you'd like to add, Nord?" Nord was silent, but Zeke spoke instead.

"What's all this 'class one' stuff you keep talking about?"

"Ah, yes. This will be covered more in your basic orientation, but in short we rank mutants based on their potential power. Class ones are mutants with a power deemed 'useful' in either every-day life or combat, and yet one that doesn't obstruct every-day life in any way. The power is usually concealable. Class twos have a power with the same usefulness, but it may slightly interfere with their lives, or have a visual effect on their body. Class threes have a power that's not generally useful, but doesn't interfere, and class fours are the dregs, who have a useless power that tends to cause them harm. Class fives are mutants who are completely debilitated by their powers. Any questions?" The group in front of Douglas stayed silent, so he moved to the next slide. This one had the smiling face of Digit.

"Digit. Real name, Amy Slate. Age, twenty-two. Class One mutant, with the ability to control technology. We don't exactly know the specifics, and based on her briefing neither does she, but she hasn't shown the ability to control anything simpler than a computer chip. Anything to add?" Digit smirked.

"I'm really, really good at video games." Zeke and Kelsey giggled as Douglas moved to the next screen, showing the siblings.

"Kelsey and Zeke O'Malley. No code-names as of yet. Kelsey is nineteen years old, Zeke is fifteen. Both class one mutants, though Zeke may be bumped to class two if it turns out his mutation caused his blindness. Kelsey has the ability to influence the personality and will of a person, to the point of moderate brainwashing. Zeke has the ability to sense danger that might approach. Under study, this has been shown to extend up to an hour in the future, though we believe he might be able to sense further with training." He turned back to face them. "You've already gotten a basic profile for Janet Miner, or Flashpoint. And that'll be it for now, you'll each need to report to your individual examinations and training. Dismissed." At a wave of his hand, the group stood and filed out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2 Fight, Forest, Fight

A/N: Sorry about the delay. This is a rather short chapter, the next one will be longer.

Chapter Two - Fight, Forest, Fight!

* * *

"Good God, you think you could pick up the pace a bit?" Nord stood on top of a rock wall with his arms crossed, glaring at Digit who was struggling across a jumping course.

"Hey! Where in the word 'technopath' do you see 'athlete'?" She stumbled off the last post onto the ledge at the end. Zeke, next in line, deftly leaped from post to post, clearing the thirty-foot course in a few seconds. Colonel Votigan applauded.

"Zeke, get down ta the lab. I think there might be s'more about yer mutation we don' yet know. That t'weren't a normal time fer that course." Zeke obediently hopped down from the ledge and out the door. Nord, now the only one left on the ledge, grumbled something about 'that show-off brat,' and proceeded in his attempt to outdo Zeke. He deftly jumped into the first post, falling with a loud soft rustle to the pads below. The others broke into laughter. Nord pulled himself from the pads angrily, giving Digit on the ledge a nasty stare. A bee in the room stung the side of Digit's neck, falling dead to the floor. She shrieked and slipped off the ledge, landing near Nord in the foam pads.

Votigan blew his whistle.

"Yer all gonna hafta learn t' get along if we want this ta work! Now, that's enough fer t'day. Everyone head back ta yer rooms and cool off." He blew the whistle again, dismissing Digit and Nord.

* * *

Meantime, on the firing range, Kelsey sat behind the scope of a high-powered rifle. Physically, she was not apt for close combat, so they had mutually decided that sniping might be a more efficient venue. At the sound of a buzzer, she fired four rapid shots at targets scattered throughout the room. She was a natural shot, and three of the four hit near the centers of their targets without aiming. Another buzzer, four more shots, this time only two came in acceptable range. She checked her clip, as she had been instructed, and loaded a few more bullets in. She had just clicked the last round into place when the buzzer sounded, pressing her to fire with even less preparation than normal. When only one shot hit the appropriate range, her instructor turned to berate her.

"The enemy isn't going to sit and wait for you to line up the perfect shot. You have to learn to aim in the time it takes you to pull the trigger."

"That's impossible!" Kelsey protested. A buzzer sounded. She glared at it, not bothering to shoot this time.

"Your teammates, including your brother, will be relying on you to assist them in battle. Will you be so quick to let them down?" Kelsey sighed. As she lifted her rifle again, the door slid open behind her. Zeke, looking very proud of himself, strutted in.

"Hey sis, guess what?" The instructor gave him a look and opened his mouth to admonish him for the interruption. Kelsey's eyes flashed a little as she looked at him.

"He's allowed to be here." She said softly. Her words echoed through the range, as though someone had turned the volume of a whisper to the maximum. The instructor nodded in agreement and went to assist one of the other trainees. "Now, what were you saying Zeke?"

"It turns out I have 'above human reflexes.' The doctor guy said it was part of my mutation. They're putting me through some sort of reflex test tomo…" Zeke stopped suddenly, his eyes darting to the east wall.

"Zeke, what's coming?"

"Something bad."

* * *

The mood of relaxed preparation had been ripped away in favor of an indescribable panic. Zeke was right, something was coming. Guards with automatic weapons took positions at the gates of the compound, scanning the woods just outside for the intruder. A blur shot in past them, throwing two guards to the ground. The guards turned inward to face this invisible threat, only to be driven to the dirt by a second force.

As one of the guards, miraculously still alive and conscious, turned toward the forest again, a tree pulled its impossibly stretched branches back away from the defeated guards. He fired a burst of hot lead, shattering the bark of one of the branches but accomplishing little else. The branch whipped around, cutting several inches of flesh from the hapless man's neck. With a gurgle of blood and one more burst of uncontrolled gunfire, he dropped lifelessly to the ground.

The woman responsible for this mayhem, tall and silver-haired, stepped out from behind the tree. Through the silence came her rasping voice, calling out to the residents of the base.

"VOTIGAN! Get your cowardly self out here and face me!" What this hag wanted with the Colonel none of them knew, but the remaining guards inside the walls were not about to hand him over. They moved into position and opened fire, spraying hundreds of bullets in her general direction. The grass before her clustered together and rose, cushioning the bullets and leaving a patch of bare dirt in its wake. Votigan stepped to the gate.

"Who're you?" He barked.

"The mother of a young boy you ripped away." Votigan stopped for a moment. She couldn't be talking about the new boy, Zeke, his mother had been killed a few days before and besides, he wasn't the one who had handled that case. He scoured his memory, but of the dozens of boys he had taken he couldn't remember any with a psychotic mutant mother.

"Uh… ye wanna gimme a name 'ere?" The woman shrieked with frustration.

"Have you kidnapped so many that you can't remember my William? WHERE IS HE?" Votigan remembered now. William Towers, an insignificant case. The intel had been wrong, the boy wasn't a class one mutant, he was a class four and of no use to anyone. However, his mothers' appearance now explained the mystery.

"Ah. Ye must've been th' reason fer the mutant sightin's. Ma'am, we're jus' tryin to help the boy. He's a danger ta hisself and everyone-" A branch smashed him across the head, knocking him out. The woman shrieked again. The trees' roots tore from the ground and acted as impromptu legs, carrying the behemoths through the unhampering fence. A young woman with steel-grey skin dive bombed out of one of the trees, crushing a pair of soldiers into a small crater. As the few remaining gunmen tried to line up a shot on _something_, Reynolds led the five mutants out the doors of their training hall.

"Alright, it looks like you've got a nice first mission. I have no idea what the hell is going on here. Figure that out and solve the problem. Go!" The five sprang immediately into action. Zeke, though blind, was aware of three threatening mutants in the facility. Two were obvious to all, but one was moving too fast between doomed guards to be seen. He sensed it coming toward him, stepped to the side and held out a stick that had been torn from a nearby branch. Who or whatever it was, it crashed against the stick to quickly to stop, but was clearly disheartened as Zeke felt the thing leave the area quite rapidly.

The ignition point of most woods is around 575* Fahrenheit. Flashpoint knew this by heart, and chanted the number as she focused on one of the rampant trees.

"Five seventy five. Five seventy five. Five seventy five. Five seventy five." After a few moments, the tree began to crack and soften, until finally a tiny orange fire started on the bark of the tree. In seconds, the tree was engulfed. What Janet forgot was that this wasn't going to instantly bring down the tree. And right now, the tree was still stomping through the base, only now it was on fire.

Luckily, Digit had just set up a small auto turret she had found in the reflex course. At her pathological provocation, it began to rapidly target critical points on the flaming tree, weakening the already cracked wood.

A bear ran into it at full speed, snapping through the brittle, flaming wood and twisting the tree out of its master's control. Weakened, fragile and flaming, it finally toppled, crushing a large portion of the barracks. Nord patted it on the head, and it went for the strange grey woman who was crushing anything in her path. She climbed to the top of a building, unconcerned by the bear's attempt to follow her, and dropped off, turning the bear into a very runny stew.

Kelsey was already taking her position in a guard tower at the corner of the base. As the others were swatted away by plants, she lined up a shot on the strange old woman.

_*PAFF*_

A TPN dart embedded itself in the woman's chest. The plants around her fell limp, and her remaining tree skipped forward and fell on the training building. With a loud crash and a layer of smoke, her influence on the battle was finished.

"Bombshell! We need to get out of here!" The grey woman turned to see the old woman retreating into the forest. It was too late for an escape of her own, however, as the four mutants were closing on her quickly. With a resigned sigh, she put her hands up in surrender. Reynolds, brushing dust from his uniform, surveyed the scene with a sigh.

"Well, so much for the hope that you might cause LESS collateral damage."

* * *

A/N: I lied when I said I'd make this longer. I've decided it'll be much easier to make short chapters more frequently, so expect 1000-2000 word chapters on a bi-weekly to weekly basis. I'm not setting a schedule, because I'll just violate it. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3, and as usual all criticism is welcomed. EDIT: Merged with Chapter 2.

* * *

A convoy of military vehicles rattled down a cliff-side road. After the fiasco at the MIA training facility, everyone was a little on edge. The base had been blasted to ruins by the crazy old hag with her trees, not to mention the assistance she received from her appropriately named comrade, Bombshell.

Bombshell herself was chained to the inside of a huge, heavily armored APC. With her, though not restrained, were the five mutants who had been responsible for her capture, as well as their commanding officer Major Reynolds. It was he who broke the monotonous quasi-silence of the truck wheels.

"I just got off the phone with the Secretary of Mutant Affairs. With the loss of our training facility, we have very little choice but to assign you to active duty at the MIA Forward Operations Base outside Atlanta, Georgia."

"What about the rest of our training?" Zeke asked.

"You've had all of the important training you need, anything else you can learn as you go along. And besides, if you get into any situations that are too hot to handle, I daresay you'll see them coming. You're practically an alarm system." Reynolds chuckled, and dropped his eyes to a notebook in his hand.

"Wait, you said this base is outside of Atlanta?" Digit snorted. "Is it really wise to put these things outside of major metropolitan areas?"

"I'm not in charge of the construction of bases. Besides, it assists logistics. It's a lot easier to get you folks to a foreign country quickly when we have Atlanta International Airport to ship you out of. Any of you know a nine letter word for 'facist or overly-strict?'"

"Government." Nord chimed.

"That's ten letters, moron." Digit grumbled.

"Alright then, 'Reynolds.'"

"That's eight. Have you ever even been _inside_ a school? The word's 'draconian,' Major." Digit sat back, and silence took the van until their arrival at the Denver airport. As they climbed out of the truck, Kelsey looked back at Bombshell.

"Please tell me we're not taking her on a commercial airline."

"Of course not. None of you are flying commercial today, we have a specialized plane waiting on the runway already." Reynolds led them through an empty terminal and out onto the tarmac. As they boarded a mid-sized cargo plane emblazoned with 'MIA,' Zeke shuddered.

"I don't think it's a good idea to get on that plane." He stopped short of the ramp, refusing to board.

"What's wrong? You think something's going to hit it?" Even as Reynolds finished his question, Bombshell, already aboard the plane, cut her foot loose just enough to stomp. The plane's floor crumpled, tearing a hole in the fuselage and breaking the chains that held the grey-skinned woman. She threw herself against the side of the plane, blasting it to scrap, and punched her two guards across the tarmac.

"Boy, you really are an alarm." Reynolds pulled his side-arm, loading it quickly with TPN darts. As Bombshell rocketed toward him, he took aim and fired four shots at her neck and chest. They bounced off harmlessly. Zeke bowled the Major out of Bombshell's path as Flashpoint began to heat the prisoner's metal skin. Within seconds Bombshell was writhing in agony, feeling horrible burns through her steel exterior.

"We can't risk taking her on the plane, she's too dangerous. Finish her off, Flashpoint, I'll handle the paperwork." Reynolds stood by Flashpoint as she continued to turn up the heat.

"What? You can't do that!" Kelsey looked at the agonized figure on the ground, then glared at Flashpoint. Her voice began to echo. "STOP IT. Let her go!" Flashpoint dropper her gaze, and the woman slowly regained lucidity. Reynolds and Flashpoint both stood, unmoving, as their prisoner escaped through the airport fence. After she had gone, Kelsey dropped her gaze.

"What the FUCK did you do that for?" Reynolds stood over Kelsey, furious. "She was DANGEROUS. She was a criminal! And you just let her get away!"

"It's not right to kill her just because _you_ can't contain her! Kelsey's right!" Digit stepped to Kelsey's side, followed by Zeke. Reynolds looked to Nord for his opinion.

"Hey, don't look at me. I don't give a shit _what_ you do to these psychos, so long as you don't ask me to help." Reynolds sighed, throwing his hands up in the air with resignation.

"Fine. We'll round her up later. I don't expect you to circumvent my orders again." They waited around the tarmac for an hour or two as a new plane was fueled and prepared. They boarded in silence, with Flashpoint and Reynolds sitting as far away from the others as possible.

They touched down at the Atlanta runway just before dusk. It was raining lightly, giving the asphalt a slick sheen and contributing another layer of grey to the already dreary atmosphere. They got onboard another truck that had been sent to pick them up and set out of the city to a heavily guarded military base a few miles west of the metro area. Upon arrival, they were greeted by a tall, proper, bespectacled man with a nametag that read 'Agent Duqarias, Head of MIA.'

"Welcome to the base. I was informed of the incident on the Denver runway, but rest assured I am not holding anyone here responsible. If you'd come inside, I'd like to debrief you myself.

Seated around a large conference table, they quickly explained the specifics of the attack on the training facility, as well as the mishap at departure. Duqarias smiled, pulling down a projector screen.

"What is it with you people and slide shows?" Nord grumbled. Duqarias ignored him.

"I feel I should give you the details on the woman who attacked you. It's only fair, you may encounter her again. Her name is Fuchsia Towers. Her son, William Towers, was selected for study several years back after an incident at a farmer's market in his home town. William turned out to be a class four mutant who's only ability was to excrete some sort of pollen that did nothing. Incidentally, he was allergic to it, the only way we could keep him alive was to put him on a respirator. Anyway, as we discovered earlier today, it was his _mother_ who was the threat. As you are no doubt aware, she controls plants." Nord broke in.

"No shit, Sherlock. Why don't you just give the hag her kid back and save us all a huge headache?"

"Because, we don't actually have her son anymore. He went missing a few months back after a gas explosion at our medical facility, he's presumed to have been among the dead."

"Remind me not to invest in real estate with you guys." Digit mumbled.

"The point is, we're incapable of appeasing this woman's demands, so if you encounter her again you should make every attempt to bring her into custody. Dead or alive." Duqarias shut the slide show down and folded up the screen. "We're going to give you a day to get acclimated to the base, your first mission will be Thursday at 0900. Dismissed."


	3. Chapter 3 Single Digit

A/N: Complaining aside, nothing about my story stays 'filler' for long. Anyway, I thought I'd do a chapter focusing on Digit. And I'm going to merge chapters two and three, and will probably merge chapters as I put more up, just to prevent a huge list.

Chapter Four: Single Digit

For the first time in the nearly two weeks since she had been recruited, Digit had a few waking hours to herself. She had sat in her bed enjoying the silence, explored the grounds, and done a few other things, but it was no surprise to anyone that she spent most of her precious free time on the computer. For the first little while she had only done her normal, benign activities—checked in with her clan, checked her email, and updated her blog. But it wasn't long before curiosity got the better of her, and she extended her will through the wires and waves of the base's network to snoop around the base computers.

They must've known she would do this, it was inevitable given her nature and powers. So, she figured, anything left on the hard drives where she could access must be too unimportant for them to care if she knew. The bulk of the files were data regarding mutants at large and accounted for, including herself and the other members of their ragtag little group. She skimmed a few mutant profiles, not seeing anything interesting, then scrolled to the team's section. Most of it was dull—her's of course mentioned the suspected hackings of around a hundred corporations, banks and government agencies, which might have been about a quarter of what she actually did. Zeke's mentioned that he had been on his school's baseball team despite being blind. Nord's… was rather blank, and someone had removed his name, probably at his threat. She even glanced through Kelsey's, which read as more of a teenager's MySpace page than a mutant profile. What drove her to delve deeper was that their resident black shirt, Janet, had a suspiciously absent profile. Digit began to climb the 'classified' levels, sure that somewhere in the confines of this military network was a bit of background information on the harpy.

The screen blurred on through programming and system prompts before her eyes. Digit wanted very badly to find Flashpoint's profile. She looked through all of the personnel files, several files regarding promotions and reprimands, and even a duty log for the next day. After a short time, only one section remained—the Clearance 8, above top secret. She anxiously sent her connection through to it, blurring through more and more notifications of her illegality. Suddenly, the screen stopped. A small, unobtrusive prompt sat in middle of the screen, unmoving. It simply read '_Nice Try, Digit._'

It didn't matter to her how they had prevented her from accessing the restricted files with her mutation. What they had apparently forgotten was that Digit's hacking abilities weren't _all_ natural. She opened up a normal system command prompt, gave herself administrator rights, and began to root her way around the system. In a matter of minutes, she had passed whatever power-neutralizing firewall they had put up.

In all honesty, the restricted files were quite unimpressive. Mostly, they were profiles for higher 'threat level' mutants and the few mutants in the upper echelons of the MIA itself. Nestled neatly between 'Fastball' and 'Flogger,' however, was 'Flashpoint.' A click brought Janet's smiling face to the screen. Beneath her picture, read:

_Janet Miner. AKA Flashpoint. Ability to super-heat objects. Class One. Position: Special Operatives._

"That's it?" She murmured. "All this work and cover-up for a single line of basic information?" She dug deeper into the files. A second list of 'extremely dangerous mutants, locations unknown' came up, this one with only seven listed, clearly not a complete list. Nord was among them, apparently for several dead agents. He had a marker next to his name that indicated he should be removed from the list, not only because his location was now known but because they had overestimated his danger in the first place. Magneto was there, of course. A few other mutants, Quicksilver, Vixen, Spectre, Deadpool, and Vital, and the list was over. Nothing else about Flashpoint. It was a bit infuriating. She had come all this way for a dead end. With a postponing sigh, she clicked out of the restricted files and, mischievous green eyes glinting, opened the restricted files at _Stark Industries._

She loved looking at it. Gleaming in red and gold, it made her so jealous. Everything about it was so elegant, so miniaturized! And that was even with the AI controller that would be, of course, completely unnecessary if she were in it.

She should be the one in it! It practically _begged_ for her to slip her body inside its cool, metal frame, putting her slender legs and soft hands in to touch all the right places and make it feel so alive. She wanted to press her skin against the inner walls of that tight, suave frame…

"Iron Man suit?" A slim man with jet black hair leaned over her shoulder. Digit flushed and clicked out of the schematic.

"Uh, I was just… looking at a picture of it… It's… nice." She crossed her legs casually. "Do you… um, work here?" What a stupid question.

"Do I _look _like I work here?" Come to think of it, he really didn't. He certainly wasn't in the standard, boring government uniform, and he in no way looked professional enough to work at a military compound anyway, from his scruffy hair to his slightly unshaven face.

"If you don't work here, who are you?" The man smirked.

"My name's Xan. Strange, I know. My parents thought they were funny. Do you want it?" Xan dropped his smirk into a serious look.

"Want it? Want what?"

"The suit. The Iron Man suit you were looking at. They've got, like, a dozen of them, I'm sure I could get one for you without causing any harm." Digit was sure he was joking.

"Oh, right. Let me guess, you know Tony Stark and he's just going to open the door and say 'have your pick, just don't blow up anything important!'"

"Well, not exactly, but I don't need the door opened per se. Do you, or do you not want the suit?" Digit stopped grimacing. He seemed… serious. It was impossible, of course, no one could break into Stark Industries, but then again… no one could hack in either. And getting closer to it _was_ part of the reason she had agreed to this mess in the first place…

"Someone's coming. I'll see you around, honey." She turned to ask him something else, but he was already gone.

"What's up, Amy?" Janet strolled into the room. What a slut.

"Oh, just checking my email. Enjoying a bit of solitude." She tried to keep her voice even and not let on how much she wanted her guest to leave.

"Listen, about the incident on the runway… I'm sorry about what I did. I don't know what came over me, I shouldn't have listened to Major Reynolds. Think you can forgive me?" Janet seemed genuinely apologetic, but Digit wasn't buying it.

"It's not _my_ forgiveness you need; I'm not the one with a melted liver." She stood and walked to her bunk.

"You think _she_ deserves an apology? Look, I'm guilty about what I did, not who I did it too. She was _killing_ people! You think she didn't deserve it herself?"

"She was helping some lady get her _son_ back from the crazy government conspiracy. In the movies we would call that a _hero._"

"Heroes don't blow apart airplanes on public runways." Janet retorted.

"No, but they also don't torture retreating enemies! You can claim whatever moral high ground you like, you're still just a self-serving bitch who's too worried about what her superiors think to do something _right_for once in your miserable life!" The last few words were yelled after Flashpoint, who had already stormed out of the room. Digit stretched out on her bunk, content that she had made her point, and closed her eyes to forget about the events of the day.


End file.
